


Viktor's Secret Past

by SassynSweet



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Post Canon. Character spelled Viktor. Minor Character Death Mentioned. Some Angst. Fluff.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 01:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassynSweet/pseuds/SassynSweet
Summary: Yuuri is settling in with Viktor in St Petersburg. Their domestic bliss is rattled when a box from Viktor's past is unearthed, leading to a conversation that has Viktor fearing the consequences.





	Viktor's Secret Past

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting to A03 so I hope I get the formatting correct. First time writing fanfic in years. No beta. Hope you enjoy!

Yuuri woke to sunlight streaming onto his face. Groaning, he rolled over, feeling a chill. He had taken to sleeping only in his underwear as Viktor was like a furnace pressed against him in sleep. But the bed was cold without his fiancé, who was a habitual morning person even on rest days. He looked at his phone. It was later than he’d thought it would be. His internal clock was still adjusting to St. Petersburg time.

He got up and shrugged on one of Viktor’s shirts. A burgundy, three-quarter sleeved shirt that was too large for Yuuri, but one of his favorites especially when the faint scent of Viktor’s cologne still lingered. He padded into the kitchen where Viktor sat with a cup of tea, reading something on his phone.

“Ah, there’s my sleeping beauty!” Viktor said with a smile, which froze on his face as he stared at Yuuri.

He suddenly felt self-conscious. Did he have drool on his face? He swiped at his mouth, just in case.

“Yuuuuri, is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

“Um, yes? Sorry, I can go change.”

“No, I love it on you.” Viktor grabbed his wrist and pulled him in for a hug. Nuzzling against his head, Viktor said, “You should always wear my clothes. I love seeing you wear them.” The Russian whispered in his ear, “Although my favorite is when you’re wearing nothing at all.” The shirt slipped, baring one of Yuuri’s shoulders, and Viktor kissed and nibbled the exposed skin.

Yuuri blushed. “Vitya!”

Viktor chuckled. “Oh, _lyubov moya_ , you are so tempting, but I promised Makka I’d take him for a walk.” As if on cue, Makka dropped a leash at his feet. They both laughed.

“Oh, more boxes arrived from Japan for you.”

Yuuri glanced toward the door and saw far more boxes than he remembered packing. After all his years in Detroit he was used to not having much, but his family must have added extras. His nerves jangled, would Viktor mind all his crap cluttering up his apartment? Maybe he could ship some back… “Sorry, I don’t want to take up too much room in your place.”

“Yuuri, you’re my fiancé not a guest. Please think of this as your home too. If you don’t like it, we will find someplace else. I can call my realtor…” Viktor was already punching something on his phone.

Yuuri waved his hands in front of him and shook his head. “No, no It’s fine, really.” Viktor’s apartment was amazing and within walking distance of their training rink. He couldn’t imagine upending the Russian from his home. To think of the humble apartment he’d shared with Phichit in Detroit which paled in comparison.

Viktor cocked his head to the side, his sea-blue eyes watching him intently. “Da?”

“Hai.” He nodded his head.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. Now come give me a kiss goodbye.”

Yuuri smiled and leaned over to kiss him. He was beginning to wonder why they were in the kitchen and not in bed when Makka whined.

They pulled apart with a laugh.

“Okay, Okay. You’re so spoiled.” Viktor said to the poodle. He gave Yuuri a quick kiss before leaving.

 Yuuri showered and dressed before opening the boxes. One had his old costumes, another all his medals and certificates from both ballet and skating. He found a beautiful tea set, robes for the both of them, and a copy of his mother’s recipes. Jeez, they weren’t even married yet. He pulled out a framed photo of his family, Viktor, and Yurio taken during the younger Russian’s surprise visit to Japan, demanding Viktor chorograph his short program. It seemed so long ago, and now the fiery, little Ice Tiger of Russia was his rink mate and unofficial family member. Yuuri placed the photo on a shelf in the living room. Returning to the boxes, he pulled out a poster tube. He groaned, confirming it contained all the posters of Viktor he’d hidden in his room back in Hasetsu.  

These definitely weren’t going up, but were to put them? He entered the large walk-in closet that was the size of his room in Detroit.  He marveled at how organized it was. Everything had its place including Yuuri’s things. His heart swelled seeing his clothes there, his shoes side by side with Viktor’s like they belonged.  Yuuri attempted to place the tube on a top shelf but was too short to reach. He grabbed a low wooden stool from the kitchen and returned to the closet.  Standing on his tip toes on the stool, he pushed the tube onto the top shelf.

“Makkachin, no!”

The poodle barreled into the closet, knocking the stool over. Arms wind milling, Yuuri fell on his ass, several items from the shelves raining down with him. He covered his head with his arms after one of Victor’s loafers beamed him. His glasses were half hanging off his face. Makka yelped and ran out of the closet.

“Yuuri, are you all right?” Viktor crouched next to him, his features furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I think so?” He righted his glasses and gingerly rubbed his head. “Sorry about making a mess….”

“No, no, I shouldn’t have let Makka loose.  I didn’t think he’d jump on you like that. He must have missed you on the walk.”

Yuuri glanced around at the items surrounding them on the floor. He spotted a long braid of ethereally beautiful silver hair in a clear, plastic bag. “Viktor, is that your hair?” He itched to touch it.

Viktor turned a shade of red Yuuri had never seen on his fiancé before. “Ah, yes. I had forgotten I still had that. Should have gotten rid of it years ago. How embarrassing.” Viktor rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced before quickly gathering the bag into a box.

“Viktor, there’s no reason to be embarrassed with me.”

“You don’t think it’s…creepy?”

_He says to the man who just put a ton of posters of his idol and now fiancé on the top self._

He shook his head. “My mom still has a lock of my hair from my first haircut.”

Viktor gave a heart-shaped smile and clasped his hands to his chest. “Oh, Mama Katsuki showed me pictures.  You were such a cute baby, Yuuri.  Those chubby cheeks, so adorable!”

Yuuri’s face heated. When had his mother pulled out the baby photos? Looking down, he noticed a photo lying next to him and picked it up. It was old and tattered. He recognized a young Viktor standing next to woman with dark blond hair and the same ocean-blue eyes as his. Hers were infinitely sad and weary. Was this Viktor’s mother? He glanced up at Viktor, noting his features were unreadable. Was he mad? Had Yuuri unknowingly crossed a barrier? As a super fan, he knew nothing had ever been mentioned about Viktor’s family. It was like the skating living legend had just magically sprung into being. There were lots of stories about how they were rich and busy, but nothing ever had been substantiated.  “I sorry…” He handed Viktor the photo.

Viktor took it with a resigned sigh. “I suppose it’s time we talked. You have the right to know, especially before we get married.”

“Viktor?” A surge of anxiety spiked through Yuuri.

“Come.” Viktor stood with the small box in one hand and offered him the other. He pulled him up and led him into the living room. Viktor sat on the couch, and he took the spot next to him. The Russian didn’t say anything for a while, staring off into the distance, and Yuuri’s nerves kicked into overdrive.

Viktor flicked his bangs and firmed his features. His eyes pierced into Yuuris. “Only a few people know this, but I trust you with my deepest secrets.”

He pulled the photo from the box and showed it to Yuuri. “This woman was my mother. Her name was Anna. I don’t have many memories of her and even those were more like fragmented images – her brushing my hair, telling me it was pretty, and her singing lullabies to me.” Viktor paused and took Yuuri’s hand. “My mama raised me by herself. She was very poor and got sick. Unable to care for me, she left me at an orphanage in Moscow. I was there several months before being placed in a government run athletic academy. My mama called me Dmitri, but I had no last name and no birth certificate. The powers that be decided to change my name to Viktor Nikiforov, a name worthy of a proud son of Russia instead of a poor, motherless bastard.” Viktor’s voice took on a cynical, hard sound.

Yuuri gasped. He couldn’t help himself.

The Russian gave a twisted half smile. “My birthday isn’t even December 25th. The orphanage lost the information my mama had provided so they used the date I came to live there as the date on my newly minted birth certificate.” He shrugged. “That’s why I don’t really celebrate my birthday. I don’t know my real one…” Viktor sighed. “So anyway it was determined that I had a natural talent for skating. I was given food, shelter, and discipline, but I was so lonely. They cut my hair very short. I cried that day, wondering if my mother would be able to recognize me without the hair she liked so much.”

Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat and swiped at the tear running down his face. Viktor’s face was mostly blank as he continued.  Only his eyes reflected the turmoil inside.

“Skating saved my life…and Yakov. He was my second coach and like a father to me. I worked hard and loved performing. I used to imagine my mother watching me and wanted to be the best for her. Yakov let me grow my hair out, and I hoped she’d find me one day.”

“Did she?”

Viktor hummed. “Many years passed, but this photo and letter came to the rink. It says she watched my programs and was very proud of me. She had been ill for many years and died before I received them.  I felt like a part of me died with her. Silly, huh, I barely remember her.”

Yuuri clasped his hand. “No, Viktor, she was your mother. You had the right to mourn.”

Viktor’s smile was small and sad. “Oh, my sweet, Yura. If only I knew you then. I drank.  I cried. Yakov yelled at me and made me skate. I hated him. I hated everything. Yurio would have been impressed with my outbursts, I think. I got very drunk one night and chopped off my hair. I wasn’t little Dima anymore. I called Yakov. I don’t know who lost more hair that night, him or me. He came and fixed me up, putting everything in this little box, which I tucked away in my closet and tried to forget.” Viktor peered at him with such vulnerability, it physically hurt Yuuri to see. “I wonder can you love a fraud?”

“You’re not a fraud. Months ago, I asked you to just be who you are, and you have been. I love the man who dances so beautifully on the ice. The man with a heart-shaped smile who can go from sex incarnate to super dork in 60 seconds. I love the man who believes in me even more than I believe in myself sometimes. I love the man I know is here.” He rested a hand over Viktor’s heart.

“Really?” Something like hope laced in Viktor’s tone.

He nodded and laughed as Russian launched himself in his arms. He kissed Viktor’s forehead. “Your name and birthday aren’t what truly matters to me, but….” He stopped, wondering if this was the right thing to say or not.

“Yes, Yuuri?” Viktor pulled back and stared at him.

Yuuri cradled the Russian’s face with his right hand, his ring catching the light from the window. “When we’re like this, I can call you Dima, if you’d like.”

“You would do that, for me?” Viktor gasped.

“I’d do just about anything for you.” Yuuri smiled softly.

Viktor considered, a finger to his lips. “I cannot tell you what that means to me, but I really like it when you call me Vitya.”

 “Thank you for sharing your life, your home with me. I can’t believe how lucky I am,” Yuuri said.

Viktor gathered him back in his arms. “I am the lucky one, Yuuri. I was used to doing things on my own, thinking it made me stronger, but you made me realize there was so much more to life and love. Thanks to your love, I feel like I’ve finally found home.”

“I love you, Vitya.” Yuuri choked out, his eyes brimming with tears.

The Russian pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you too, _solnyshko_.”

Makka barked and put his large paws on them. They laughed and gave him rubs and pets. “We love you too, Makka.”

 

 


End file.
